Help Professah
by Nightfancy
Summary: Well, he's finally gone and done it. Luke at thirteen years old has fallen in love. Now what should he do? Seek advice from a very flustered professor, of course! Original idea by decembertiggerX. Luke/OC. No spoilers.
1. Help Professah

**A/N:** _Based on decembertiggerX's lovely comic on DeviantArt, the link to which is in my profile. The story idea is all hers...I just gave it words. ;) Hope you enjoy! It's not exactly the same, but it's pretty close. Also, t__wo (completed) parts are involved just like the comic it's based on, so don't worry about me abandoning this. ;)_

Gerald was a typical offender—big, loud, stupid, and lazy, Luke was a prime target for his abuse being the exact opposite of all of those things. Normally it did not deviate from the occasional public humiliation, but it sure was annoying! Today was no different. Luke had just discovered a puzzle he was _sure_ the professor hadn't heard before and was therefore busy scribbling it down as quickly as he could put his pen to paper.

But it was all for nothing, for as soon as Gerald and his long-time goon Laurence showed up, the puzzle would be lost forever. Luke didn't hear them coming, but he did feel Gerald knock into him on purpose, causing him to sprawl into the ground. "Oh sorry! 'Didn't see you there, Small Fry!" he mocked, chortling with Laurence as they scurried away.

Luke could've blown up the world for how angry he was—now he couldn't exactly remember how the puzzle went _and it was just so perfect too!_ He made his way toward the professor's flat in a huff, not really paying attention to his surroundings because he was so upset. Gerald would pay one day! He would pay…and Luke would be there to inflict all the pain and humiliation and suffering and—

Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Luke didn't even try to reign in his emotions like the professor might suggest had he been there. He whirled around enraged, thinking that perhaps Gerald had returned for round two, and snarled ,_"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"_

But it wasn't Gerald. It was a small girl in a cute green dress, a basket full of flowers in her arms. "Hi!" she said cheerfully, seemingly unaffected by Luke's anger or brash manner. "I know of a field not far from here and I've spent all morning picking these daisies…I thought you might like one. Here you go!"

Luke felt himself turning red. "Oh, uh…thank you—"

"Hee hee, you're welcome! My name's Analise. What's yours?"

She grinned at him, and Luke was beginning to feel like the worst gentleman-in-training in the entire world. "I'm—I'm Luke," he managed.

"Oh, I like that name," Analise said, smiling at him. She was so _cute_ with short, mousy brown hair and a daisy attached to her headband. "I think it really suits you, Luke."

"Erm…thank you," Luke repeated bashfully.

"Now I'm sorry, but I really should be going now…I have this whole basket to deliver!" Analise waved and left Luke standing there on the pavement, feeling quite at a loss. He was so angry earlier…but now he was just confused. Also, he felt a bit strange—was it…normal to feel like this? Luke thought for a few minutes and decided that when one was in doubt, it was best to ask someone who was smarter…someone like the professor.

.∆.

Fortunately, Luke didn't have to wait very long for his advice. He let himself into the professor's flat as he always did and sat, stone-faced at the kitchen table but not before carefully laying the flower on top. He knew the professor would be there very soon as his last class on Thursdays finished up around this time. And consistency proved its value as not five minutes later, the professor stepped through the door.

"Ah! I'm glad you're here Luke, I—"

The professor broke off as he took in Luke's appearance. "My boy…whatever is the matter? I would expect you to be feasting about now…"

Luke sighed. "I'm sorry, Professor," he apologized, feeling very contrite indeed. "I don't much feel like eating."

"Are you ill?" Hershel asked, immediately concerned.

"No, I—" Just then, Hershel spotted the flower on the table.

"What a lovely daisy," he commented gently.

Luke looked up at him. "Professor I—" and at the questioning look on Hershel's face, Luke looked away and admitted, "Someone gave it to me. A girl."

"Oh?" To his benefit, Layton managed to keep his voice even.

"Yes, I've seen her around town before, but we never spoke until…well, until today that is. I was just having a terrible day, Professor, and I had no idea how to fix it…and then Analise was just so nice to me and gave me this flower. And well…"

"Everything's alright now?" the professor deduced with a small smile, his head cocked to one side.

Luke quickly spun his head to face him again. "How did you know that?"

Layton chuckled. "My boy, you do look terribly confused. I was merely putting the pieces together."

Luke nodded as if this explanation made sense, but then he continued. "But…the only problem is that…not everything is alright because I decided—or maybe I realized—that I really," Luke took a deep breath and tried again. "I _really_ like this girl, Professor, and I…What should I do?"

The professor was quiet for an abnormal amount of time, at least for him. He started gathering the ingredients for making a proper pot of tea for himself and the boy, and when the kettle was finally situated to boil five minutes later, the man sighed, adjusted his hat and leaned forward slightly over the counter, facing away from his young apprentice. "I believe you should tell her, Luke," he said quietly.

And though the silence had been a bit lengthy, Luke did not comment on it and instead chewed over his mentor's advice. "But," he finally began to say when the tea was just about ready, "we've never really talked until now and…" Luke was nervously rubbing his left arm, "and don't you think it's a bit well…_random_ to tell her I like her?"

"There's only one way to find that out, my boy," the professor said as he brought the steaming kettle to the table and produced two tea cups.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Luke admitted gloomily, taking his tea and sipping it. Maybe this just wasn't an area of the professor's expertise. He was brilliant, certainly, but Luke had expected his advice to help a bit more than this. From what he could see, he was back at square one—having all of these feelings for this girl he barely knew and still not knowing what to do with them…

So Luke did the only other thing a gentleman-in-training did when he wanted to know something.

He began asking questions.

_Lots_ of questions.

"Professor, have you ever…been in love before?"

The professor proceeded to choke on his tea. Luke inwardly sighed. Maybe he wasn't the best person to ask after all…


	2. Don't Answer That

**A/N:** _Toying with the idea of a follow-up. Let me know what you think! :3 Again, the link to the corresponding comic is posted in my profile. I highly encourage checking it out!_

The plan had been simple. They had decided that under the circumstances, a simple letter would do. Discussion of any alternative gift had given Layton fits for some unthinkable reason. He started blabbering about something like the birds and the bees and they could be happy together with chicks sometimes…or…or well, _something_. Luke couldn't remember, but what he did remember was that he had had to calm his professor down with a new hot cup of tea. But it was alright. Luke felt like a letter would quickly sum up his feelings (though it had taken an eternity to write) and it also couldn't be misunderstood, could it? He could even quickly hand it to her and leave if he wished; there'd be no need to face the embarrassment that would accompany presenting her with a gift. He would certainly have to worry about what to do the following day after he would pass her on the street again, but for now…he only had to worry about handing it to her. And that couldn't be that difficult…could it?

But Luke was very wrong of course. He had opted to just take the letter along with him to school the next day and then aimed to give the letter to her shortly thereafter. For some reason, school went by very quickly and with its end, grew Luke's anxiety. It was _just_ a silly letter! Nothing to get worked up over! But the closer he came to the street where he had seen her yesterday, the more difficult it became to continue walking. His hands felt very sweaty and he knew his heart was pounding. _It's just a letter…It's just a letter…._ He repeated the mantra over and over to himself and tried to imagine what the professor would do, but that only failed…because apparently the man was for once as clueless as Luke about this type of thing. And after the way Luke had behaved toward the girl the previous day…

He could feel himself losing his resolve as embarrassment flooded him. Why couldn't he just act like a gentleman? It seemed so easy in theory! Why did it have to be so hard in practice? Luke greatly admired his professor of course; aside from this hiccup regarding girls and liking them, he was the very picture of togetherness—something Luke felt so very far from. He felt as though he may shatter into a million pieces at any given moment. Maybe if he could just stop shaking…

But Luke did know one thing for certain; a gentleman was brave above all else. He couldn't recall how many times the professor had unflinchingly saved him from mortal peril, all without hesitation. Of course, handing a girl a letter was very different indeed, but it did require that special breed of courage, that courage bred out of urgent demand. This…was not so urgent (the thumping of his heart could attest to otherwise), but it definitely was a _valid_ demand. If only there were some runaway cart or something that he could save her from…not that he ever wanted her in danger, but proving his worthiness in such a stunning display—then this courage would demand no letter, only immediate action; immediate action Luke was sure he would easily take.

Ten meters from where they had previously met, Luke sighed heavily and ducked unseen into an alleyway. She had to be nearby; he saw her nearly every day…just _why_ had it taken so long to say anything to her? It had taken her giving him a flower on a very terrible day for him to speak to her and the first thing he had said…Luke pulled at his hair in frustration. Just _why_ did she have to see him at his worst? That wasn't fair at all. Perhaps he could make it up to her. He looked over the envelope he held in now slightly sticky hands (he rubbed them off on his trousers for the thousandth time)…was _this_ enough? Would _this_ make it up to her? He really hoped it would. He hadn't meant to be so mean…but he was so sure Gerald had returned and he was so tired of Gerald picking on him…

Luke quickly pulled his cap over his eyes for a moment and tried to remember the encouraging words the professor had given before one of his nonsensical, rambling fits had rendered his advice entirely useless…

"_The most important thing is to remain calm, my boy. You will be a bundle of nerves the moment you see her again. Deep breaths, my boy…Deep breaths."_

Oh. Maybe that would help. Strangely, after putting this advice to practice, Luke slowly felt himself calming down. _It's just a letter_, he told himself again, though this time the thought calmed him. Indeed, it _was_ just a letter, but it was a very important letter. It was a letter to Analise, telling her how he felt. His nervousness had been intimately tied with the importance of the letter itself, but he wasn't even going to be around when she opened it (indeed, he intended to bolt all the way to the professor's flat the very moment he was out of her sight). There was no need to worry. What he really needed to be concerned about was the next day after he saw her again and after she had read it.

Luke sighed again, this time feeling much more in control and set off to find her.

It didn't take very long. He spotted her at the flower shop situated nearby. Luke had to smile; now _that_ made perfect sense! She was a flower girl! No wonder she had all of those daisies. He idly wondered if she grew them herself, or if she arranged those beautiful bouquets herself. Maybe she did both.

All Luke needed to do now was cross the street to get to her, but something made him pause—something that made him almost drop the carefully-constructed letter in the cobblestone street. After a few moments of spying on her to be sure it was her (there was little doubt, but Luke figured she couldn't be the only girl on the entire street that owned a green dress and chose to wear it today), someone else joined her. A much _bigger_ someone else. Luke squinted, trying to make out who it was…was it her father? Maybe this warranted a closer look…

He crossed the street a few shops west of Analise's and craned his head over the many passersby, but there was absolutely no doubt now. Analise…had already made another gentleman-in-training's acquaintance. Of course, Luke couldn't be absolutely sure, but his heart certainly was sure enough. He could feel it immediately constrict with more pain than he could ever remember experiencing. Oh _why_ hadn't there been any runaway carts today? And why on _earth_ had Analise given him that daisy in the first place? What a cruel, _cruel_ joke! But she had seemed so honest…so happy and content…

Luke faced the slightly wrinkled envelope now and glared at it, if only to distract from the prickling in the corner of his eyes. He found a nearby bin and tossed the nonsensical thing inside, but not before reading the words above printed in gold lettering, 'PLEASE DON'T LITTER'. Luke snorted, wondering if he could change that sign and every other one in the world to 'PLEASE DON'T LETTER'. It'd be more appropriate after all.


End file.
